


An Unlikely Pair

by Orangecupcakes



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29317257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orangecupcakes/pseuds/Orangecupcakes
Summary: Two beings from different times, a demon sword and a Twili king, each with their own dark pasts, brought together to serve one master. An unlikely partnership blooms into something more.
Relationships: Ghirahim/Zant (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 3





	1. Left To Rust

Ghirahim

It had all started with the goddess, as many of life's problems often did. She had wanted a sword, the best sword ever made. A sword that could walk and talk and think for itself. So she twisted hot iron into shape, pouring life force into the blade like molten gold. She named him Ghirahim and as much as it pained him to admit it, he had once pledged to serve her. The result should of been what she wanted. But maybe she didn't truly want a sword who thought for himself too much. A sword she couldn't fully control. Ghirahim did everything he could to please her. He fought by her side, he contributed to battle plans, he protected the goddess's people. People who shied away from his strange metal body, and spoke about him in loud whispers behind his back. He secretly craved a mortal body, one like theirs. Although his sword spirit form was beautiful and powerful, there were certain things it couldn't do. It couldn't taste, or wear fine clothes, or move with as much grace as he had wanted. He explained these desires to the goddess once but she refused to grant him what he wanted. Maybe when you're ready, she'd always say, and Ghirahim would argue that he was ready now. He should've know she had no intention of giving him what he wanted. 

Then she abandoned him. Something deep inside his chest dug into him like a shard of glass when he realised she had made another sword spirit. His replacement. This new sword spirit felt cold and almost mechanical. But what she lacked in personality, she made up for in knowledge. A million facts and statistics about the enemy’s tactics, about the battlefield’s terrain. Ghirahim’s hands curled into fists as he watched her graceful movements, the way she could analyse a situation in seconds, the way she floated along in the goddess’s wake like some carefree butterfly. It was enough to make him sick. This new sword spirit, this Fi, she never felt discontent. She never wanted more, never lost control in battle, never went too far. The goddess didn’t make her promises that she had no intention of keeping. 

What did that make him? The rough draft? A set of blueprints to be tossed away? So he was too “impure” for the future hero, so what? He’d show her. He was through with being the goddess’s lap dog. Seeking Demise out felt natural, almost like returning home. He had to prove his loyalty first, Demise wasn’t stupid. And so Ghirahim gave him everything he knew, about the goddess and her plans and her allies. He killed people he had once fought alongside, and for a moment that almost hurt, but then he remembered how they had mistrusted him, and it felt much better. Demise was pleased and agreed to accept Ghirahim as his blade. In exchange for his service Demise gave him what he wanted. A demon body of his own. It was fabulous and elegant and so very beautiful. Most importantly of all, it was his. He was free to do with it what he pleased. And he did, satisfying his many urges and desires, to eat, to drink, to dance, to entertain lovers.A magical bond was placed between Ghirahim and his master, but that suited Ghirahim just fine. It meant Demise had no intentions to leave him. Their bond would outlast time itself.

Fighting by his master’s side was where Ghirahim was meant to be. The rush of adrenaline, the feeling of his blade piercing through an enemy’s skull. Those were the days when the blood flowed like wine. It felt good, just how things should be. Ghirahim couldn't help feeling a swell of pride at the fear his master commanded with ease. Men cowered at the sight of him, tripping over themselves to retreat like the cowards they were. Ghirahim was made a lord and put in charge of an army of demons. His new demon brethren were vaguely mistrusting of their new lord’s past alliance with the goddess, at least until they saw him in battle. He held back nothing, and cut down Hylia’s army with the force of a true demon. His men felt more confident in his after that, and gladly followed him into battle. Together they conquered the mortal's lands and slaughtered their people, swarming over the surface world and leaving blood and bodies in their wake. 

Like all good things it wasn’t to last. In the last great battle with Hylia, the armies of demons were defeated, and Demise himself had fallen. The goddess was too weak to deal the final blow, so instead he was sealed away, but there was hope. An old story of a child from the sky and a spirit maiden. And so Ghirahim waited. A thousand years of waiting. All for nothing. He had failed his master. He had lost. Worst of all he had lost to the goddess’s pitiful hero. His master was gone and no amount of magic or loyalty was going to bring him back. The goddess had taken everything away from him all over again.


	2. A Shattered Soul

Zant

He couldn't believe it at first, he was hopping mad. How could Midna, the little sneak, betray him like this? Her own family. Ok, yes they were only distant cousins, half a dozen or so times removed, but still. She had been his friend, and to betray him like this. They both had equal rights to the throne. After the last king had died the council of elders had taken over until the king’s heirs were old enough, then they would vote on who should be the next ruler. The voting was a mere formality, it had always been. Yes Zant and Midna’s relation to the king were both equally distant so on paper either could be next in line. But Zant was the eldest, by at least a couple of months. And he had prepared for this role, he had plans. He'd spent his whole life preparing, studying, waiting for this moment. After the old king passed, Zant had gotten serious about it. He straightened his posture, deepened his voice, threw out his chest when he spoke. He covered his malformed hands with long sleeves. He was the perfect model of kingship.

Midna didn’t even want the crown until was thrust upon her, she had planned nothing. She hadn't gone to the lengths Zant had. If the elders knew half of what she got up to, they never would have chosen her. And now she clutched the crown greedily, acting as if it was her birthright, her duty to “protect her people”, as if she cared about that before she was in the limelight. Who were they to decide that Zant was 'emotionally unstable'? How dare they suggest that his intentions to return the Twili to their rightful places among the light dwellers was 'absurd'?He contested against the elders decision many times, arguing that he wanted to help his people. That the Twili shouldn't be punished for the mistakes of their ancestors. They claimed he spoke lies so they punished him. He struggled as best he could as two men held him down but that didn't stop them cutting his mouth and sewing it shut. Midna just let it happen. She didn't lift a finger to help, didn't even shed so much as one tear. That was the true end of their kinship.

After that they laughed him out of the court. Well he had stopped them laughing. Although...that hadn't gone as planned either. He hadn't meant to turn his people into...those things. It was a mistake, a horrible thing gone wrong when he plunged Hyrule into twilight. He tried to console himself with the idea that maybe it was what his god, the great Ganondorf, had wanted. The balance of light and twilight was off, he knew that, but he could fix it. He just had to finish what he had started. Secretly those monsters horrified him. It was their hands that disturbed him the most. The fingers were all wrong. The middle and ring fingers were short, while the index and little fingers were too long. Whenever he looked at them, he found himself glancing down at his own hands, at his...disfigurement. It was as if he had infected them. It was one thing to turn them into monsters, but this had an element of cruel irony, as if to suggest he was one of them. A monster.

It wasn't true of course. It had been the right thing to do, he knew that. For the greater good of his people. That didn't stop it going wrong in the end. How could Midna use such forbidden magic against him? It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And that light dweller hero had no right to interfere. But Ganondorf would bring him back and Zant would prove that he could do better. He was worthy of a second chance.


End file.
